A Taste of Liberty
by She-Who-Cannot-Be-Chained
Summary: She had already decided that loving Tom Riddle would never be easy, but that was before another version of her came stumbling through the Veil, trying to murder him and calling him 'Lord Voldemort'. AU.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: the entirety of my worldly possessions consists of a laptop, a phone, some clothes and a tonne of Harry Potter merchandise. Anything else you find me with belongs to the lovely JKR.

**A TASTE OF LIBERTY**

**Chapter One**

Hermione was having a good day. If her time at Hogwarts had taught her anything, it was that patience was a useful virtue, and could make for a pretty stress-free life if applied properly. _Well_, she corrected herself, _as stress-free as my life could possibly be, considering that it's _my _life._

It was hard not to get too excited, though. After years of people trying and failing to finish it – almost thirty, if her memory was right, and it usually was – the Time Turner was almost completed. And by her, nonetheless! She knew it was something to be immensely proud of, but she was more amazed at the amount of insight she had gained into time manipulation than she was at the finished product.

She had always been fascinated with time, even before joining the Department of Mysteries.

Having a Time Turner would have been so handy at school. She had often imagined going back in time so she could be in two classes at once, or so she could study twice as hard. "Your thirst for intellect knows no bounds," her best friend Harry used to say in the snottiest voice he could manage, laughing their heads off, but they both knew it was true. She couldn't say it hadn't come in handy, though; it had landed her a well-paying, academically satisfying job, and it had been through her love of books and learning that she had met her husband.

The idea of time being something they could change, could move through as easily as wading through water, had blown her mind when she had first been told about the Time Turner. Humans were such insignificant little blips on the universe's radar, but magic was a strange and powerful thing, and while there were many aspects with heavy limits, there were also aspects with next to none. She had spent many nights at the Ministry at first, going through the notes of the previous attempts, looking for patterns, errors and irregularities. None of her predecessors had even managed to go backwards or forwards in time at all, so even if that was the only thing she managed to do, it would still be an incredible achievement.

She wasn't the top of her class and the brightest witch of her age for no reason, though, and she was determined to see it through.

No one had wanted to partner with her for the little project. It had been filed under 'ABANDONED' for ten years, after all, and had simply failed too many times in the past. When she had bravely sent in a request for it to Linda Cartwright, the head of the Department of Mysteries at the time, she had only been an Unspeakable for three weeks, and there had been many laughs at her expense. Albert Cabot, she remembered, had been particularly vicious, calling her 'incompetent' and a 'clumsy newbie, too eager to trip over her own feet.'

She wasn't married to a Slytherin for nothing, however, and he had taught her well. A Gryffindor throughout her Hogwarts years, her initial response would have been to be as loud and blatantly obvious about her skill and competence as she had been in school by taking up all the problematic projects usually reserved for older Unspeakables, but that approach lacked subtlety and would only have garnered resentment from her colleagues. She knew she was capable, but there were better ways to get what she wanted.

Instead, she had slowly but surely climbed the ladder, working diligently on the Time Turner project while partnering with well-esteemed Unspeakables for the difficult, but manageable, projects to gain experience. She became respected for her ability in magic and her quick thinking, and got her pleasure by cleverly showing up Albert Cabot in every way possible.

It was extremely gratifying to know that, when it was time for Cartwright to retire, it was a unanimous decision that Hermione would replace her instead of Cabot, who was the former favourite. He had ranted that she had gotten the job because of her personal connections and that a conflict of interest had taken place, but that was of course ridiculous; she would _never_ use her husband's position as a means of improving her own. Cabot's face that day was a sight she would never forget, and her husband had given her an _extremely_ pleasurable gift to show his pride. Her cheeks burned at the memory.

And now, she was almost finished with the first project she had ever undertaken, the most difficult of them all, and she was damn well pleased with herself. If she could only figure out a way to correlate the amount of turns of the hourglass with the time travelled, and then try it out and have it work, it would be finished and she would be able to explore other methods of time travel and manipulation. The excitement kept the colour in her cheeks, and as she went through her copious amounts of notes, looking for the method she had used to create and magically bind the hourglass, she hummed a little under her breath.

"Hermione!"

Her hand slipped, and she accidentally smashed the hourglass with her wand. "Dammit," she swore. She turned around to glare at the culprit. "Lupin, do you have _any_ idea how long that took to make?"

Lupin looked sheepish, and Hermione mentally sighed. She couldn't find it in herself to be _really_ mad at him, although that hourglass took three days of constantly surging magic into it at regular intervals, which was exhausting. He was new in the department, and his enthusiasm reminded her of herself at that age. She remembered wondering what a happy-go-lucky Hufflepuff would want to do in the Slytherin and Ravenclaw-infested Department of Mysteries - she had been told she could consider herself an honorary member of both – but his specialty was the Love Chamber, which explained it all.

"Sorry ma'am," he said, shifting a little uncomfortably. His reversion back to calling her 'ma'am' when she had specifically told him and everyone else that they were to call her 'Hermione' meant that she must have looked more irritated than she thought.

"Its fine, Lupin," she said exasperatedly. Tapping her wand on the mess, it instantly disappeared, leaving no trace of glass or sand. After it was all cleaned up, she turned to him, an expectant look on her face. "What was it you needed to tell me?"

"There's been an incident in the Death Chamber," he said quickly, running a hand through his blonde hair. "I don't know any specifics – Rookwood wouldn't tell me anything – but it has something to do with the Veil."

"The Veil?" she asked sharply, all ire forgotten. Lupin nodded. "What about the Veil?"

"I don't know any specifics," he repeated. "Rookwood just told me to get you."

This couldn't be good. She sent Lupin to alert the rest of the Unspeakables about a possible situation, before leaving the Time Room. If _Rookwood_ was asking for her…that could only mean it was bad news. Rookwood was chummy with Cabot since they both worked in the Death Chamber, and he hated her because of her blood status.

The corridors of the department were empty and quiet as she made her way to the Death Chamber. That place was her least favourite part of the department, partly because she knew it would fascinate her husband to no end if he ever found out about it and partly because it was just plain creepy. The Veil was only one of many mysteries in there; no one knew where it had come from or what it did. They assumed that going through it would cause death, but no one had ever been close enough to find out.

When she arrived, the Death Chamber's Unspeakables – Rookwood, Cabot and Bode - were huddled around something, arguing.

"She fell out of the Veil! She must be dead!"

"She's clearly alive, Rookwood! She's breathing. And besides, a person can't be resurrected into as corporeal and human a body as this."

"Well, what other explanation do you have? Are you saying that she _wasn't_ originally dead? That a perfectly living person just came through the Veil in the _Death Chamber_?"

"We can't rule out any possibilities, Rookwood." That was Bode. "She looks strange, though…there's something wrong with her. Maybe she's a Time Traveller."

"It would fit. Not to mention that she looks exactly like a younger version of our _esteemed_ Head of-" Bode coughed, and when Cabot looked up, he noticed Hermione there. His mouth clicked shut.

"What's going on here?" Hermione asked. Now that she was closer, she realised that they were crowded around a girl.

She looked young – sixteen or seventeen years old at the most. Her skin was incredibly pale, as if she had been drained of blood, and her robes were torn. When Hermione pulled the robes back, she saw that cuts and gashes littered her body.

"She's bleeding!" she said, her eyes scanning the girl. Her breathing was soft and uneven, but it was there, which filled her with relief. "Why have none of you called a Healer?"

"No one aside from an Unspeakable may enter the Department," Cabot sneered. "I thought _you_, of all people, would know that."

"This is an exceptional case," Hermione said curtly. "Bode, go to St Mungos and ask for Healer Tonks." The tall, stringy man nodded and made off.

"You can't do that! It is against protocol-"

"Questioning the Head in an emergency is against protocol," Hermione snapped back. "I trust Healer Tonks to be completely confidential, and if need be, she will be put under Oath. Tell me what happened." As Cabot and Rookwood explained to her in as little words as possible how the Veil had begun to shake, without them doing anything, and how the girl had fallen out already unconscious, she went back to looking at the girl's injuries. Her leg was clearly broken, as was her left arm, there were multiple lacerations, bruises and grazes all over her body and a quick diagnosis spell showed internal bleeding. Her knowledge of Healing was limited, but after a half hour, she had closed up all the lacerations and cleared up the bruises.

"Healer Tonks has just arrived." Bode came rushing back.

"Hermione! What's going on?"

She stood up. "Thank Merlin you're here-"

Before she could even finish her sentence, the Healer's keen eyes had spotted the injured girl at her feet, and she rushed over. She didn't have to say a word as Tonks' Healing instincts kicked in, and she began casting spells, lighting up various parts of the girl's body. "Broken…internal bleeding…slight head trauma…"

With all of Tonks' attention on the girl, Hermione knew she would be safe, and she now turned her concentration to the situation at hand. She looked at the other Unspeakables. "The Aurors will need to be contacted to interrogate the girl once she has recovered."

"We should be the first to question her," Rookwood said, his voice gruff. "She came through our department, and it's our responsibility to find out how. We need her information for our studies on the Veil."

"You'll be allowed to question her," Hermione replied, "once the Aurors have been informed. We will do it before them."

"Hermione," Healer Tonks' voice called her. When Rookwood nodded curtly at her, she jogged back to the mysterious girl.

"How's she doing, Andromeda?" The girl certainly looked better after the Healer's ministrations. Her skin had returned to a normal colour, and instead of looking on the verge of death, she now looked merely to be sleeping.

"She's fine," Andromeda said. "I've fixed her all up, but…" She hesitated.

"What's wrong?"

"Her vitals…they're on the wrong side. Her heart is on her _left_." Andromeda's eyes were wide. "I've heard of it happening in Muggles, and them being able to live normal lives, but it's an exclusively Muggle disorder. Wizards or witches don't get it. It just doesn't happen."

Hermione frowned. "What are you saying?"

"Either she's a mutation," Andromeda said, "of which there is less than a 0.001% chance, or…well, I don't know. The whole thing is bizarre. I don't know what to think." Her voice lowered. "Did you notice how she looks almost _exactly like you did in your sixth year?_"

"Yes," Hermione said shortly. Now that she had been cleaned of all blood and looked healthy, it was hard not to recognise the familiar heart-shaped face, slope of the nose and freckles that she dearly hated. Her curiosity burned, but she had to be professional. "Can she be questioned?"

"Not until she wakes up, which won't be for a few hours, I think. Hermione, I want to move her to St Mungo's so I can watch over her-"

"Not possible. She cannot leave the Ministry." Hermione looked at her friend seriously. "Dromeda, you'll need to be put under an Unspeakable Oath. We can't risk anyone finding out that someone came out of the Veil until we know where she came from. She could be dangerous, and I think something strange is going on here. I know you wouldn't intentionally let it slip, but its protocol and-"

"Say no more," Andromeda said, shaking her head. "I'll do it."

If there was one thing Hermione loved about Andromeda, it was her understanding. "Thank you," she said gratefully. "Bode! Can you bind Healer Tonks' Oath?"

As Andromeda made her vow to Bode, Hermione stared at the girl, a deep crease between her brows. Who was she? Yes, the girl looked like her, but she also knew she had never looked that gaunt or that haunted in her life.

. : : : : : : : : : .

"You brought the Minister?" Rookwood hissed at her.

"Don't look at me, I didn't invite him," Hermione said, watching the Minister and the pack of Aurors from behind the glass window of the interrogation room. What was he doing there? She had only called for the Aurors, but… "He always knows what's happening in his Ministry."

She glanced at the only other occupant in the room. The girl was sitting on a conjured bed in the corner, staring at the newcomers. She had the look of a caged cat, but she was putting on a brave face, her lips pursed and her eyes hard. She seemed determined not to say anything, and she was very stubborn about it, a fact she had discovered when she and Rookwood had tried to question her when she woke up two hours ago.

She had been very un-cooperative. Hermione had given her a Calming Draught in advance, in the hopes of having a peaceful conversation with her once she woke, but it had been for naught. She seemed to be under the impression that they were trying to kill her, especially when she saw Rookwood, and she had jumped out of the bed, screaming. They had had to bind her and assure her that they were not, in fact, trying to kill her before she maintained any semblance of calm, and once that was done, she regarded them with suspicion and refused to answer any questions they asked. It was obvious that she was mentally unstable, and it was a good thing they had taken her wand from her already. Hermione had no doubt at all in her mind that the girl would kill them if she had a wand and they got too close to her.

Normal questioning had gotten them nowhere, and they decided they needed to get the Aurors – and some Veritaserum – involved.

The door to the interrogation room opened, and in entered the Minister, followed by Head Auror Scrimgeour and two other Aurors she didn't recognise.

"Alright, what's the situation here?" Scrimgeour asked.

When the Minister saw the girl, his eyes widened slightly and he quickly glanced at Hermione, who imperceptibly shook her head. She could tell he had a million questions running through his head already, but she had no answers for him. Instead, she tried to give him a small smile.

Rookwood quickly cast a charm so that the girl would not be able to hear them. "She came through the Veil," he answered. The Unbreakable Oath had been lifted for him and Hermione for a short period of time so that they could communicate to the Aurors the basics of the situation. "The Veil is located in the part of our department that deals with death. However, while we believe she is not a dead person returned from the grave, we also have no other alternative suggestions and she will not answer our questions."

Scrimgeour nodded swiftly at one of his Aurors, the short, stubby one with red hair, and he produced a small bottle of clear, colourless liquid that in any other context would have been mistaken for water.

"This should do the trick," he muttered. He countered Rookwood's charm and approached the girl, obviously trying to look friendly. "Hello, my dear. We would just like to ask you a couple of questions. It would be greatly appreciated if you responded with the utmost co-operation."

Hermione could tell by the clamped position of her jaw that she knew what the liquid was, and was not about to take it lying down. Scrimgeour could see that too, and with a quick '_Incarcerous'_, the girl was bound.

"Scrimgeour!" Hermione protested, as the girl gave an angry shout.

"It is standard procedure for dealing with un-cooperative criminals," Scrimgeour only said.

"We don't know that she's a criminal!"

"I will unbind her once she calms down," Scrimgeour said. He turned to the girl and said, in an annoyingly condescending voice, "Now, if you take some of this like a good girl, I will take the ropes off of you."

Hermione knew if it was her he was talking to, she would have punched the daylights out of him, but to her surprise, she slowly but willingly stuck out her tongue. Scrimgeour looked pleased, and dropped a couple of drops of the Veritaserum on it before screwing the cap and tucking it away. The ropes disappeared.

"Now, girl…what is your full name?"

There was a long pause before she said anything.

"I don't wish to answer," she said innocently. Hermione stared at her, and she knew the others could also not believe their ears. Her eyes were defiant as she stared up at the Head Auror, her face blank.

"Tell me your full name and birthdate," Scrimgeour tried again with a frown.

"I don't wish to answer." She had begun to smirk.

That was impossible. Veritaserum could only be averted in two ways – the antidote or Occlumency. Andromeda would have mentioned if she had something as questionable as Veritaserum antidote in her system, which meant it had to be the latter. The thing was, Occlumency was such a rare skill that she only knew of two people who were proficient at it, and one of them was her husband and the Minister of Magic. Even _she_ couldn't do it. How was it that a girl, not even eighteen, knew how to do it and was good enough to be able to throw off Veritaserum?

She saw a flicker of interest light up in her husband's eyes, and he began to stare intently at the girl, watching her. When their eyes met, his face became incredibly focused, as if he were trying to read a book.

Her smirk dropped as quickly as a fly. "Stop trying to get in my head!" the girl suddenly screamed at the Minister, whose face was only able to betray the slightest shock before she had launched herself at him. The Aurors immediately raised their wands.

"Don't hurt her!" Hermione said quickly, stopping the Aurors in their tracks. Hurting her would only antagonise her even more than they had already, and that was the last thing she wanted to do.

"_Confundo_," the Minister said quietly, pointing his wand at the girl. Immediately, her eyes glazed over and a look of bemusement crossed her face. Her arms dropped. Scrimgeour signalled for the Aurors to keep their wands on her.

"You could be arrested for trying to attack Minister Riddle, girl," Scrimgeour growled. "I suggest you keep your head unless you'd like to spend a few hours in an Auror's cell."

"Minister Riddle? _Tom_ Riddle?" Her eyes snapped back to awareness. Her horrified whisper was barely audible, but Hermione was wondering how in the world the girl had cast off the Confundus so quickly.

"Yes, that's right-" Hermione started.

Before anyone could move, the girl grabbed the wand off of Head Auror Scrimgeour – a feat that should have been impossible, the man had an iron grip – pointed it at her husband and shouted, "_Avada Kedavra!"_

**A/N: This is the first and only chapter where 'Hermione' refers to Hermione Riddle from the AU. IN future chapters, the POV will be our own Hermione's, and this one will be known as Unspeakable Riddle, Hermione Riddle or something along those lines. Yes, I know this will get confusing very quickly, but please bear with me and I'll make it worth your while!**

**Also, I know this probably wasn't what you had in mind for Tomione. I don't plan to have a pairing for our own canon Hermione as I want to try something not romance-based (as if, but I can dream!), but if it happens, it happens. :)**

**I hope you enjoyed it, and would love you forever if you left a review!**

**- I.S.P.**


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: the entirety of my worldly possessions consists of a laptop, a phone, some clothes and a tonne of Harry Potter merchandise. Anything else you find me with belongs to the lovely JKR.

**A TASTE OF LIBERTY**

**Chapter Two**

Hermione was bored out of her mind. She had been waiting _three hours_, and hadn't spoken for the last two. She had tried everything in the book to alleviate the tedium – trying to fall asleep, counting the tiles in the ceiling, watching the two Aurors flinch every time she asked to go the bathroom – to no avail. Merlin, it was enough to drive a girl to Bellatrix-level insanity. Not that they didn't already think she was crazy.

"Is the Minister going to be back anytime soon?" she asked the Aurors impatiently. As expected, she got no reply.

They had been ordered to guard her until the Minister's return (with the explicit instructions: "Use any methods necessary to contain her if she tries to escape."), and as a result, their wands had been pointing in her direction since he had left. They kept shooting her wary glances, looking ready to apprehend her if she so much as twitched.

She had tried to tell them that they had nothing to worry about, that she wasn't going to try and murder any other prominent government members (or anyone else, for that matter), but that fleeting moment of irrationality when she had thrown an Unforgivable at their beloved Minister seemed to have permanently cemented her in their minds as on par with an Azkaban escapee. They had looked incredibly confused, anyway, when Minister Riddle had forced them to drop all charges against her.

And that was the reason she was here now, feeling like she was watching paint dry, instead of in an Auror's cell. She could only guess as to why. He must have seen something in her head when he had used Legilimency on her, because as soon as he had made sure that she was suitably handcuffed and detained, he had driven Scrimgeour and the two Unspeakables out of the room, mentioning something about 'needing to fetch a friend.'

She wondered what kind of a friend took three hours to get a hold of.

Half an hour after asking for the fifth time if she could go the bathroom (a request, of course, which was refused), she heard voices, and her head shot up. She looked out the large see-through wall of the Interrogation Room to see that the Minister had returned, along with a woman who hadn't been there during her interrogation. She breathed a loud sigh of relief at the same time as the two Aurors. For a brief, comic moment, they all looked at each other awkwardly, before the door slid open. Riddle and the woman entered.

"Bills, Stubbins, you're free to leave," Minister Riddle said. He looked very tired, but even then, he still managed to exude an aura of complete power and importance. It was an order posing as polite instruction, and while one of the Aurors looked like he wanted to stay, they both slunk out quietly.

Riddle walked over to Hermione, and looked at her as if she were some complicated puzzle he was trying to solve. "This is the friend I mentioned earlier. I believe she'll be able to shed some light on your… situation."

Hermione barely heard him; she was too busy staring at the woman, who Hermione guessed was the only person who could stand next to Tom Riddle and still be the most attention-grabbing (albeit unconsciously) individual in the room. Her side was turned towards her so she couldn't see her face, but her clothes were… the only word she could think of to describe them was 'interesting.' She was draped in bright, flamingo-pink robes, with earrings that looked (and croaked and hopped) like chocolate frogs. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a way that reminded Hermione of a beehive, and she had stuck a gardenia on top. She had only ever known one person to dress that eccentrically. In fact, she reminded her very much of –

"Luna," she breathed, shocked. Riddle's friend was _Luna Lovegood_.

The woman turned to look at her, and there was no mistaking the kind, slightly vacant grey eyes, vaguely elfish features or knowing grin. Her lips twisted into a bright smile. "Hermione. How nice to see you." At her name, Riddle's expression flickered.

Hermione got over her surprise quickly. "How do you-"

"You _are_ Hermione Granger, right?" she said, sounding dreamy. "Born in 1979, a Gryffindor, best friends with Harry Potter?" Suddenly, Riddle coughed, and when Hermione looked at him, his expression was that of a man whose worst suspicions had been confirmed.

"Luna, how do you know that?" he asked. Hermione looked at Luna expectantly; she wanted an answer, too.

"No one ever believes me when I say I can see other universes," the blonde shrugged. "I've seen into your one, Hermione, quite a few times. That universe is very similar to our one, yet-" she glanced at the Minister, "-completely different." She came over to Hermione and took both of her hands, one in each of her own, pale ones. "You're no longer in your own universe, Hermione. I believe the term to describe this is 'alternate dimension' or 'parallel universe.'"

There was silence. She found it hard to speak; not because of the news, but because this Luna, now that she saw her up close, was not the young schoolgirl Hermione had been friends with, but a mature woman. She looked like she was in her late-twenties, and her face had the weathered look of someone who had been through battles but had still managed to maintain her innocence. Hermione stared and stared, until Luna blinked and she remembered herself.

"I know," she finally said, as calmly as she could manage. "I…I expected as much." She had had a lot of time to think, after all, waiting for them to come back. Still, it was a hard thing to digest when someone else confirmed it for her.

The signs had been everywhere. Tom Riddle as the Minister, Rookwood the Death Eater not trying to kill her, and for Merlin's sake, if the most telling sign wasn't that the Ministry actually seemed to be working in an incorrupt and effective manner, she didn't know what was. It spoke volumes that she had been able to tell the difference by the competence of their most important body of government, but then again, _her_ Ministry had been headed by Fudge.

It was a hard reality to accept, but Hermione knew an alternate universe when it was practically waving its arse in her face, so to speak. She wasn't one to deny the obvious.

"I thought you would," Luna smiled. "In almost every universe I've seen, you're very clever. In _this_ universe, you're the brightest witch of your age. Actually, I believe you've already met yourself."

That was new to her. "What?" Hermione cast her mind back to what had happened since waking up, but she didn't remember seeing _herself._ She thought she'd notice if she was meeting her doppelganger or counterpart or whatever. "When-?"

Before she could question Luna, Riddle said quickly, "So you confirm that she's not from here?" The blonde nodded, and he looked at Hermione, his brows furrowed. Hermione's mouth snapped shut. "This poses a problem. We need to get her back to her world as soon as possible, before _they_ find out she's here." A significant look passed between the Minister and Luna.

"Yes," Luna mused, "I suppose they'd find a way to use her to rally support."

"Who are you talking about?" Hermione cut in, annoyed that she had no idea who they were talking about. Someone trying to use her to rally support didn't sound good; it sounded like something the Voldemort from her time would do, if given the opportunity to use someone who had jumped from another universe. She _already_ had enough to deal with in her own world; she didn't want to be a target in this one, too.

"You were very distressed when you woke up," Riddle said to her, ignoring her question. "Why?"

"Only as distressed as the situation called for," she said defensively, remembering her maniacal behaviour. "The last thing I remembered before that was fighting in the Department of Mysteries, with Death Eaters trying to kill me." She had already decided that the Riddle of this dimension was to be trusted if _Luna_ of all people trusted him, but she still surreptitiously glanced at him for any indication that the term was familiar. He only looked confused.

"What is a 'Death Eater'?"

"A supporter of Lord Voldemort, the powerful Dark wizard of her world," Luna said unconcernedly, just as Hermione was about to reply. "Lord Voldemort's true name is Tom Marvolo Riddle."

Riddle blanched. For the first time, he looked out of his element. Although there weren't many visible signs (from what she knew of the Tom Riddle from her world, he'd probably jump off of Hogwarts' Astronomy Tower before allowing his mouth to hang open in shock like a common Muggle), his eyes were suddenly less aware and darker, and he unconsciously ran a hand through his hair, which Hermione now noticed was a distinguished cut of thick salt-and-pepper.

"I was a Dark wizard where you come from," he repeated, staring at Hermione as if for validation. "_Voldemort._ 'Flight of Death.' That sounds remarkably like-"

"-our own problems here, yes," Luna said.

Riddle sounded so stunned that Hermione wondered just how different this world was from her own. From what she knew of alternate universes, it was the choices that people made which distinguished them from their counterparts in other dimensions, not the core personalities of the people themselves. Using that logic, this Tom Riddle was still brilliant and power-hungry – proven by his position as the Minister for Magic. What choice had he made that had caused his life to diverge so drastically from Lord Voldemort's, then?

"Granger!"

She was startled out of her thoughts by Riddle. "Uh, sorry?" she asked, blinking. "Did you say something?"

He seemed to have recovered from the shock of his counterpart's behaviour, and now looked irritated at Hermione's wandering mind. "I asked you to tell us, from the beginning, everything you remember. Leave nothing out." He said the last with such an air of finality that Hermione instinctively knew that trying to keep something from him would only cause her more trouble; not in the least because he was a Legilimens, and her Occlumency was not nearly good enough to keep Voldemort out. _Tom Riddle,_ she corrected herself.

Luna was looking at her expectantly, and when she nodded, Hermione collected her thoughts and began to speak.

She told them how she and her friends, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Luna (here, Luna's counterpart's eyes began to sparkle) and Neville had snuck into the Department of Mysteries, intent on saving Harry's godfather who he had been getting visions about and who he believed Lord Voldemort was holding hostage. He had been holding him, or so they believed, in the Hall of Prophecy, but when they arrived, they realised they had been baited into a trap and that Sirius was not there at all. Instead, they were ambushed by Death Eaters. They had wanted Harry to retrieve the prophecy, because only the person a prophecy was made about could take it.

"Your Harry Potter had a prophecy made about him?" Riddle interrupted, his face curiously blank. Hermione nodded.

"It was about him and Voldemort." She was about to say more, before pausing. She knew he had said not to leave anything out, but something was telling her it wasn't a good time to say anything else about that particular topic. Luckily, Riddle only grimaced and gestured for her to continue.

She told how Harry had retrieved the prophecy, but was intent on keeping it out of Voldemort's hands. Battle ensued, with the Death Eaters trying to get the prophecy whilst killing her and her friends. Rather ironically, they had managed to run through the entirety of the Department of Mysteries to the Death Chamber. More Death Eaters arrived, and then the Order of the Phoenix came.

"Order of the Phoenix?" Luna asked.

"A group," Hermione explained, "dedicated to fighting Voldemort and trying to keep the casualties of the war at a minimum. Dumbledore created it." She saw Riddle's eyes harden at that. _Interesting,_ she thought, filing away that little tid bit for later.

"Anyway," Hermione continued, coming to the end of her tale, "after the Order came, we started to regain our footing. I started a duel with Bellatrix Lestrange, but like a fool, I wasn't aware of where I was. She hit me with a spell, and the last thing I saw was the Veil. Then I woke up here," she finished.

She looked at her audience. They seemed to be having a silent conversation with each other, and Luna became more serious. Riddle's face was devoid of any emotion. Finally, after at least five minutes, he looked at Hermione.

"Luna has just informed me that there are…certain complications in regards to the Veil," Riddle started.

Hermione's heart sunk. She had a feeling she wouldn't like where this was going.

"The first and foremost is that the Veil, in all other circumstances that Luna has seen, is only active for a very short timeframe, and these small windows are few and very far in between."

"How far?" She was almost afraid to ask.

"Anywhere from twenty to fifty years," Luna said.

All hope of going home to help Harry defeat Voldemort was completely dashed.

"Which means you will be staying here for an extended period," Riddle said. "As such, there are certain distinctions between your world and our world that you will need to be aware of.

"Like your…_Voldemort-_" there was only the slightest pause before he said the name, "-we also have Dark wizards who seek to conquer death, and they would not hesitate to use you and then kill you once they catch wind of your existence here. I trust most of the people who know about you, but everyone else will be Obliviated. You cannot be let out of our sight until the Veil becomes active again."

"But that could be half a century away!" Hermione protested, enraged. "Are you saying that for the next fifty years, you're going to keep me under- under _house arrest?_"

"That is exactly what I am saying," Riddle said harshly. "They cannot be allowed to gain any sort of advantage. We have a war of our own, Granger, and we can't afford for your mistake to damage our chances. Lives are at stake here."

She forced herself to calm down. "Fine," she said grudgingly. She'd find a way to get out of it without hurting anyone later. "Where are you going to take me?"

"We'll have to introduce you to the inner Corps first," Luna said. "They'll be the ones tasked with protecting you from the MODs-"

"Sorry?" Mods? It was the first time she had heard the term since arriving here.

"The inner Corps," Luna repeated. "Like your Order of the Phoenix, the Corps is a group of people who oppose the Dark wizards of our time and try to keep them from hurting as many people as possible. The inner Corps are our most elite and trusted members-"

"No," Hermione said. "What are the MODs?"

Luna stopped mid-sentence and glanced at the Minister.

"They call themselves the Masters of Death," Riddle answered, the venom and hatred in his voice so similar to that of Voldemort's that for a second Hermione forgot where she was. "They're the Dark wizards we have to keep you away from. Gellert Grindelwald and Albus Dumbledore."

. : : : : : : : : : .

"Stop fidgeting, dear," a friendly voice admonished her, and when she looked up, she saw a plump woman with red hair rushing about, an apron wrapped around her waist. Hermione flushed and dropped her hand from where it had been buried in her bush of hair, nervously tugging at the strands.

"Sorry, Mol-" She stopped herself in time to correct herself. "Sorry, Mrs. Weasley."

The Weasley matriarch chuckled. "Molly is fine, dear." She smiled at her fondly. "You remind me so much of Hermione. Our Hermione, I mean."

"Can you tell me about her?" Hermione asked, frowning slightly. She had been hearing so many mentions of thatHermione, but not anything _about_ her.

Molly only smiled, slightly mischievously. It wasn't an expression Hermione was used to seeing on her, mainly because the woman _she_ knew hated seeing that expression on her twin sons, Fred and George. "You'll meet her soon enough, dear." Humming slightly, she waved her wand, and levitated an egg carton towards her.

They were in the kitchen of the Weasley home, Hermione sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar and Molly rushing around, trying to cook dinner for twenty. Hermione found it hard to equate this house with 'the Burrow', which is what the Weasley woman called it, because it looked nothing like the Burrow back home. For one thing, the Weasleys of this time were quite financially well-off, owing to Arthur's high-ranking job at the Ministry, and their house was a big, beautiful thing in Ottery St Catchpole. None of the Weasley's children lived there anymore, which made Hermione wonder where exactly in the timeline she had landed, and the Corps used it mainly as their headquarters.

After her interrogation with Riddle and Luna, Riddle had decided to call a meeting of the Corps as soon as possible so that she could be more properly informed of the situation, and so she could meet those who were charged with keeping her safe. Luna had Apparated her to the Burrow, since Riddle had said he needed to 'fix things up in the Ministry'. Molly had already been briefed on the situation by the blonde, and had been the first Corps member charged with 'watching' – i.e. babysitting – her. She wouldn't have minded so much if the redhaired woman would actually _tell_ her something, but Luna had told her not to reveal anything until Hermione was formally introduced in the meeting. Molly was good at keeping her word.

As Hermione finished the glass of water she had been given, Molly placed a plate of cookies in front of her. "They should be ready to introduce you soon," she said kindly, referring to the Corps meeting which had already started downstairs. "But I don't want you to get hungry. Eat up! You're much too thin."

Hermione sighed. She felt like she was being treated like a child, but it was hard to say no to Molly Weasley's triple choc-chip cookies.

She was worried about what would happen in the meeting. Aside from Riddle, Luna and Molly, she didn't know who would be there. She had tried to make guesses, but really, it was hard to decide who was and who wasn't the bad guy here. Riddle, after all, was the Minister for Magic, and was leading an organised fighting group against _Dumbledore_, of all people. How much crazier could this world get?

It was completely shocking to her that the benign, annoying-twinkle-in-his-eyes Dumbledore that she had known – that had been her best friend's mentor – had the capability of becoming a Dark wizard. And partnering with Grindelwald! For Merlin's sake, Dumbledore had been the one who had defeated him.

She wondered how many more surprises she'd be able to take before she had a coronary.

Hermione was just polishing off the plate of cookies when she heard footsteps behind her. "Molly, Minister Riddle's starting the meeting now."

"Oh, blast it!" Molly said. "Tell him I'll only be a minute. I'd like to finish dinner before the meeting ends."

"Alright. He told me to fetch the girl, though, and told me you would know where she is."

Indignant at being called 'the girl' and that she was to be 'fetched', Hermione spun around, ready to give whoever it was a piece of her mind. "Excuse me, but-" Her voice hitched in her throat. She froze in shock, and the offender stared back at her with wide brown eyes.

"Are _you_ the girl the Minister was talking about?"

Hermione could only gape at him, and she would have been embarrassed if he wasn't doing the exact same thing.

"You look just like-"

"Lupin, go and take her to the meeting," Molly said gently.

"_Lupin?_" Hermione blurted out, finally finding her voice. "_Remus?_"

The young man, who looked like he had graduated only recently from Hogwarts, stared at her like she had just turned into a House Elf. "No, that's my father," he said slowly. "I'm Draco."

Dear Merlin. She'd only met four people from this world, and already she was done and ready to pack her backs and go home. She was sure that coronary was going to hit soon, because the boy staring at her looked the spitting image of Draco Malfoy.

**A/N: Hope you liked it guys! Please read and review, and I'll love you forever!**

**- I.S.P**


End file.
